The Blood Diaries
by Blame-It-On-The-Alcohol
Summary: A killer is waiting. They have nothing to lose. Their only purpose in life is to kill those people who made their pain. Suspense-horror thriller. Dark themes. Rated T for violence and language.
1. Prologue: Red

**Hi, welcome to my 2****nd**** Fanfic Ever. This is a murder fanfic with a little twist: not only do you have to attempt to guess who the killer is, I'm not telling you who the victim is in each chapter until the next chapter! Plus, the whole thing is from the Killer's POV. It's called The Blood Diaries. The colour will be different for each victim. It could be a clue, it could be random, I haven't decided yet. This writing is going to be quite random and abstract. Each chapter will be named after a colour.**

**I won't give too much explanation, but I will say that the murders will be primarily directed at the Glee kids, of course.**

**Enjoy! (This won't be too gruesome, I wouldn't be capable of writing SAW-level gore.)**

**And remember, reviews make me write better! Feel free to send me PMs asking who you would like to die next, and methods of death (T-rated only).**

**BIOTA xxx**

**P.S. Please check out my other Fanfic, and also, check out TopHatGirl's fanfic Instructions on the Back, an AWESOME murder fanfic!**

Prologue

The images are scorched into my memory like a picture album.

_The spatters of red, making abstract patterns over the floor._

_The blinding flash of silver, coming from nowhere, deadly accurate. _

_A lingering scream that never came, etched on her face._

_Door slams, silence shattered like a stone through glass._

_Time freezes. Heart stops. One word._

"_Mommy?"_

_My world turns red._

_Somewhere, they are smiling. Laughing._

_They made my pain._

_Why are their lives happy?_

_My life is red._

_Yesterday, I decided to kill someone._

_A smile flickers across my face._

_It's not your game any more, Mama. It's mine._

_I miss the red…_

I'll update again on Friday. BTW, it's meant to be confusing and weird :)


	2. Chapter 1: Black

Chapter 1: Black

NOTE: I have decided that I'm going to make the diary chapters have flashbacks in them from the victim's POV.

It's done. One down. Not in the least satisfying, but this is only the beginning.

The blow that extinguished her life, like a jet of water to a flame…I felt like a tiny bit of debt had been repaid. A few minutes, maybe even hours of suffering compensated for. It felt strange. Then again, she was strange.

_I've always thought that New York is at its most beautiful when you can see what's going on. From the tallest apartment buildings, nobody can hide their secrets any more. I see everything that's going on._

_That's how I knew that I was going to die that night. You could call it fate, or a sixth sense. I call it the fact that my shop's the only one open this late at night around here. Simple deduction. I like the night, it's my customers' favourite time too._

_A figure, dressed all in black, but for a gold mask covering their face. I thought about running, or fighting, but what would be the point? I have always been fascinated by death. It's the next great adventure._

_I picked up the phone and made my final call._

"_Mike? I'm sorry. It was you, it was always you. Remember that after I'm gone."_

_I open the door and smile. "You can come in."_

_The figure seems a little startled, but walks inside. They survey my little clothes shop, then their eyes come right back to me. Pools of liquid emerald. I know those eyes; I've seen them so many times before, but never with this much anger._

_It all slots into place. That's good. I would never want to die with a mystery unsolved. If only I could have saved the others. _

_A flash of silver, a gasping breath, and everything's gone._

She always was the quiet one, but she saw things that nobody else noticed. I never really had much against her, but she would have been tiresome to deal with later.

Mommy? Can you hear me?

It's begun, and you won't see the end.

Hope you like the first murder chapter. This one should be quite easy to figure out. Remember, reviews make me write better! Feel free to review suggestions for who you want to die!


	3. Chapter 2: Purple

**Thanks Bonesluver for my first review! Yes, the last victim was Tina. It was quite a hard choice picking who 'Black' was going to be, but eventually there was only one option. Remember, reviews make me write better stuff!**

Chapter 2: Purple

Purple. The colour of self-expression, of rebellion and uniqueness. I like to think of it as the colour of spirit.

His spirit's gone. It's floating around like a pretty balloon in the sky. I used to go to the park with Mom and buy pretty purple balloons, and then let them go. She would tell me off and tell me that it would land in the sea and choke a sea turtle. But it was just so pretty…

They won't find him for a while. I hid him. I played hide-and-seek with him. It was fun! I think he won. I don't really mind him winning. Being dead and all, I suppose he doesn't really care.

_Tina. Tina. Tina._

_I read it in the papers that she was found, stabbed, in her little gothic clothes shop in uptown New York. I was shellshocked. Tina was always…there. She was always a lovely presence, even though she wasn't much of a participant. _

_She hurt me. But I still miss her. Our whole gang doesn't feel the same without the quiet observer._

_I go down to the studio to warm up for the next performance, Tina still on my mind. I have to concentrate. This performance could be make-or-break for the company. But it's impossible. Murdered? Stabbed through the heart? Not possible. No. _

_I try my hardest to concentrate on the moves. I'm so focussed that I barely notice that I'm completely isolated. I don't hear the doorknob turn._

"_Goodbye."_

_Next thing I know, I'm pinned against the wall with cold metal against my throat. No. No. NO. I don't want to end up like Tina. I have a life to live. I have a family. Please don't take away my life…_

"_You're definitely purple. Purple is the colour of individuality. You are individual. You never needed anyone. Right?"_

_I stare at the figure. The figure has medium stature, and the voice is disguised so I can't tell if it's a boy or a girl. I can't see their face, although a single strand of blond hair is visible through the black material. But I can see their eyes. Vivid green and full of hate. I'm so scared that I can't answer the question._

"_Wrong. That's your main weakness. You let people into your life. You let in my last victim. She left scars. Didn't she? That's why it's best to stay alone. You're a star in the making-why do you need anyone else anyway?"_

_The cold hatred is still there, but I can tell that the figure is almost…curious. Their voice has a hint of a childlike curiosity. _

"_If you didn't have anyone to share your successes with, it wouldn't be worth it."_

_I say it without even thinking. Fuck. Have I just cost myself my life? Something flashes through the figure's eyes. Is it…sadness? Suddenly the figure is slumped on the floor, and I can see the eyes are filled with tears. I think about running, but the figure still has the knife and is blocking the door. _

"_Hey…it's OK…I'm sure there is someone out there who cares…you're not alone…"_

_Shit. SHIT. The figure's getting up. I can see the knife glinting, hungry for my blood._

"_Actually, you are absolutely right. Goodbye."_

_I feel someone grab me from behind and shove me against the mirrors. The figure leaps up and slashes my legs and stomach. I feel the river of blood trickle onto the marble floor and I feel sleepy. I don't want to wake up. Do I have to wake up?_

_The light's so bright…_

They told me that he had to die. I asked why. They told me not to ask questions. Why do I always ask questions? They know best.

Mommy's coming for me. Once everyone's gone, she'll love me. They told me so.

Right?


	4. Chapter 3: Gold

Chapter 3: Gold

The last victim was Mike Chang. The clue was the performing and it being implied that he'd had a relationship with Tina. It would appear she broke his heart :(

Gold. The colour that stands out, the colour that everyone strives for but few reach. It's a colour of victory, of fame and fortune.

My third victim wanted the gold so much. But then they met me, and the gold-handled knife was all that mattered.

I've gotten into a routine now. Once a week, I get up, have some toast. Go to work. Hide the body. Come back. Attempt to sleep. Get up. It's quite a comforting thing, routine. But I wanted a little excitement. So, with the help of my little accomplice, I decided to make their death a little different.

_La Theatre Diamanté. The dead-end theatre where I had worked for the past fifteen years, ever since I left school with a budding career ahead of me. Back then this place was so glamorous to me. But now, I can see past the glitter to the dull grey foundations of the building, and the dull, grey, withered dreams of the people trapped within its walls. I always dreamt I would escape. But at past 30, I fear that window has closed too much for me to fit through. Have I wasted my chance?_

_I gaze across the Philadelphia skyline and sigh. At least I made it out of Lima. So many people never do. I should be grateful for that. But I left him behind…_

_I start reciting Beatrice's lines from Much Ado About Nothing. The director looks bored. I remember when he first joined the ensemble; he was vibrant, eyes blazing with youth and ideas. Now his expression remains glazed. _

_Hang on a second. His eyes were never that glazed. And why is his shirt stained red?_

_A figure walks up on stage. I assume it is Henri, who's going to play Benedick in the play. But the costume isn't Benedick's. The figure is medium build, dressed in a midnight cloak and a gold-studded mask. They stroll onto the stage and I can see pale skin, and light green eyes that seem darkened with emotion. I've seen those eyes, but I can't remember when._

"_I always thought you would get somewhere in life. Clearly you've reached a dead end." The voice is quiet and level, but laced with malice and sarcasm. Fear creeps through my veins, but I use my acting skills to keep a calm expression._

"_What do you want?"_

"_You. Come with me."_

_The figure takes my hand and removes the mask. It's all I can do not to scream. Scars cover the figure's face, which must have once been beautiful. Their blonde hair is cut short. The emerald eyes, the expression twisted with hate and malice. I don't recognise the figure, and the hideous scars mean I can't even determine whether the figure's a boy or a girl. The only thing I can tell is that the figure's younger than me._

_The figure notices me staring and smiles a sad, twisted smile. "The scars, huh? Well, I've had a shit life. I see them as a trophy of survival."_

_She leads me up the stairs to the balcony over the stage. I try to break away, but they smile, and only then do I see the knife resting lazily in their hand. Wordlessly, I walk to the edge of the balcony._

"_Are you going to kill me?"_

_The figure doesn't answer. She walks away, still keeping their eyes locked on me, and brings out a rope and a bundle of cloth. She ties my hands and ankles together and stuffs the cloth into my mouth. Tears are running down my cheeks. Why is this person doing this to me?_

"_Why am I doing this?" The figure seems to have read my mind. "Oh, your death isn't without reason. In fact, since you want to know, I'll tell you everything. After all, you won't be telling."_

_The scarred figure tells me everything. First, who they've killed and who they're planning to kill next. Then, they explain why they're killing everyone. Finally, they tell me who they are. It all makes sense. Horrifying sense. And any one of us could have stopped it. I'd heard about it all, some time ago, and I thought about helping, but decided I couldn't handle it._

_I can't handle this. I black out._

_When I wake up, the gag's been removed. The figure is sitting on a chair, watching me with interest. I notice another person, also with a black cloak and mask. They're taller, bulkier, although I still can't tell their gender. A pale arm protrudes from the cloak, with a long scar running down it. Their eyes look cold and the person is completely motionless, waiting for the scarred person's instructions. _

"_Well, I have given you my secrets. I can't have you spreading them around. So, you have two choices, because I'm very generous like that. You can jump off that balcony, and die on your own whim. Or, I could hand you to my willing accomplice here, and I promise you that method of death will be much more painful and much slower."_

_The figure pushes me to the edge of the balcony. The floor underneath is concrete. The thought of smashing onto that concrete makes me shake with fear. But the accomplice is brandishing a scarlet blade and has a sadistic smile. _

"_Sorry, too late, coward."  
><em>

_The figure comes to grab me, but a second before their fingers touch my flesh, I leap off the edge. For a few seconds, I'm flying._

_Flying…_

And so my third victim has their last performance. Turns out they were brave enough to take their last leap.

But my soul is thirsting for blood, so my next victim won't be so lucky.


	5. Chapter 4: White

**I could not be more sorry about how long it took me to update, but I had **_**crippling **_**writers block! Literally, every time I thought about the new chapter, I'd get a headache. Thank god I've finally got a new idea, so you have your update, loyal readers :)**

**Now, I adore this character, so I've decided to give them a horrible death. Yep. That's my logic. :D Well, I say horrible. My mother reads my fics. She's already grounded me because of the *semi-sex* scene in my Glee fic, Freefall, so I'm on wafer-thin ice. So, not too graphic.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: White<strong>

White. The colour of purity, of perfection. It shouldn't exist in my world. Perfection was destroyed on that winter's night so many years ago.

I dreamt of _him _last night. His leering smile, his dead eyes, so devoid of any colour or emotion. His disgusting, dirt-caked hands, and what he did with them. Sleep has never been the same with him around, haunting my nightmares. Sometimes I wish I were a vampire. **(Author's note: NOT Edward Cullen. Edward Cullen is a FAIRY PRINCESS. OK, back to the story.)**

The body I left behind yesterday was perfect, bled completely white, like a beautifully grotesque mannequin. Hmm. With my bloodlust, maybe I am a vampire. That's good. Emotions only bring you pain.

Still, I should probably lay off the garlic bread then.

* * *

><p><em>"You did great tonight," my agent beamed. I managed a smile. Sure, it had been amazing up on that stage, but I hadn't slept in three days. I needed to get back home and ask my husband to make me a cup of tea, then sleep for the rest of my natural life, hopefully.<em>

_Unfortunately, that wasn't to be._

"_Shit, life's not going my way today," I grumbled and checked my car tyres. One was punctured, and I'd forgotten my spare. Cursing my luck-I was still five miles away from home-I reached for my phone and was about to dial my husband's number when the phone inexplicably fell to the ground. _

_I looked up and frowned. In front of me was a figure with a gold-and-black mask. Great, so I'm going to get mugged in front of everything else. It's just like I'm back in high school, I thought darkly. _

"_What do you want?" My voice wasn't tremulous, it was frankly bored, I was so used to this sort of thing. "I only have ten dollars in my wallet."_

_From the partially obscured muscles in their face twisting, I thought the figure was smiling._

"_You." _

_With remarkable speed, I'm suddenly in a vice-like headlock, then thrown into the bushes. The stinging nettles bring up noticeable red welts on my skin, but the mind-numbing fear makes the pain disappear. They push me down and hold a knife to my throat._

_The eyes through the mask are an all-too-familiar green, but for the love of God I can't think where from. Their hair is black as the sky-my dye-radar is going off-and very short. Nothing gives an indication of their gender, which is irritating. But with that amount of strength, it must be a boy, right? _

_Focus. Knife to throat. Cold metal. Hurts. Windpipe restricted._

"_Can't…breathe…" I stammer. They reluctantly half-release the knife, and I gulp in the air like a drowning man. "What do you want?" I ask again. The same obscured smile, behind that mask. I can't help but appreciate its beauty._

_A searing pain down my left forearm makes me gasp in pain. The pain steadily builds up to a burning agony and I see the figure carving patterns into my skin. Crimson beads turn into rivers-the cuts are deep. I feel dizzy with pain and blood loss. _

_Everything's black._

_When I wake up, thank god, I'm in a hospital on this soft green bed, there's a drip hooked up into my arm, I'm safe in a hospital…_

_Wait. Soft green bed?_

_My hopes plummet as I take in my surroundings. I haven't left, that figure has just hooked me up to a drip. My wounds are bright red and untreated. I stare into the figure's cold eyes. Suddenly, I recognise them._

"_Brittany?" I gasp. No way. Kind, innocent Brittany? How…what…how did this happen?"_

_The figure laughs, a terrible noise that sends shivers up my spine, then takes off the mask, revealing a horrifically scarred face that marrs their features. But I can distinguish one thing in my haze. _

_That is definitely a girl. Something about the curve of the lips and parting of the hair that I've learnt to appreciate greatly in women even though they're not…exactly…my preference…but that is a girl behind all their scars. And it's about as much Brittany as chalk is cheese. I was mistaken about the eyes. I know them from a different place. A boy I once knew. _

"_What are you going to do with me?" I ask in a barely audible voice, wincing at the pain that jolts through my arm. She gives a slight smile then actually replies, in a surprisingly innocent, pleasant voice._

"_Well, I was thinking I'd put that same pattern on your legs and other arm, because I think it's pretty. And each time I'll put you on this drip, which'll keep you alive. But then I'll carve it into your forehead, and by then the drip will have run out, so you'll die. Sorry about that!" she says chirpily. She could be a waitress quoting the specials in a restaurant, but she's explaining how I'm going to slowly and painfully die._

_She proceeds to work. The next days before I die are blurred in my mind, a sea of blood and agony. The cruel knife tortures me in other ways too- cutting off 'unnecessary' parts. An ear. A little finger. Every day I beg to die. Every day she whispers in my one remaining ear that I'm staying alive for another week. Then another. And another. Days and nights become separate in my mind. The intricate pattern in tattooed into every place by that blood blade. I am now not a human, just a shell of agony._

_Finally, exactly 41 days after she kidnaps me, the drip's run out, the food that she's posted through my missing lips all gone. She smiles and gets up to leave. I manage a twisted smile and she mouths her name. I have no way to hear it, only one eye to see it with, but it's enough to discover why this had to happen._

_Sighing with relief as I feel the numbness of death come over me, the puddle of blood soaking the grass finally run out, I go to sleep._

_And wake up in peace._

* * *

><p>I'd been fairly gentle to my first three victims, getting a taste for killing, but that was my first true <em>murder. <em>But we're not done.

It's not over till the fat lady screams.


	6. Notice

Hi guys! I just wanted to give all my awesome readers a heads-up; I have exams. The biggest ones I've ever had, and I'm crapping myself. In the great scheme of things they're not massive, but they're sucking up every second of my spare time, which equals no writing for me until at least the 12th January. Then, I will make an effort to update as many of my stories as possible-my two Hunger Games SYOTs, my crackfic, Freefall and The Blood Diaries. A lot of people have PMed me asking me please not to quit writing and it's really touching, thank you all. Thank you everyone who has decided to read my stories, review them, or just walk away with a smile on their face. You're what keep me writing and you're what will bring me right back to the keyboard after my exams. I hope you all had a great Christmas. Kara x 


	7. Chapter 5: Blue

**The last death was Kurt. I'M SO SORRY! I love Kurt so much, so I made his death memorable, to say the least *evil grin***

**I'm not even going to say how sorry I am that I haven't updated since New Year's Eve. Just to let you know, I've never been off Fanfiction; life's just so hectic nowadays that most of the time I don't even have my precious writing weekends :( If you want to check that I'm still online, just PM me or review! I'll get back to you, because I get email alerts and I check my email at least once a day.**

**Anyway! Now to kill another character and get a step closer to finding the killer! Note: This character should be pretty easy. What's hard will be finding the clue.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Blue<strong>

When I woke up this morning, the sky was blue. It's like it was fate, for my next pretty little victim. Kurt Hummel was a delight; the adrenaline rush every time he screamed…it was better than any amphetamine. Countertenor makes pretty screams. Soprano would likely be better though.

Blue; dreamy, childlike, pure and calm. All qualities I could've developed, theoretically, if she hadn't left me, and he hadn't taken me.

Some people say there's no use dwelling on the past.

I say there's no use letting the people that killed your past have a future.

Ooh, dark little metaphor, huh? Wouldn't think I could be so creepy! I giggle and sling the rucksack over my back, closing the door behind me silently, so as to not wake…_them _up.

The pretty little voices that infest my head...telling me to kill people...

Oh, just kidding! You really thought I was schizophrenic, didn't you? Don't be silly! I'm not crazy!

I'm just **insane**.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hey, Anna?" <em>

_She turns her head and smiles at me. Her face is always glowing like some kind of sunny rays hit her when she was a baby and just kept shining, like they always have. Her lips are pink today, like candyfloss. I wonder if they taste like candyfloss. I quickly kiss her and giggle. Yes, they do._

_Her eyes drift to the sky again, and mine follow them. The clouds look like candyfloss too. Well, y'know, except them being white and everything. And that one kinda looks like a turtle._

"_What's up, honey?"_

"_I'd really love some ice cream. A bluesky day like this needs ice cream. As well as candyfloss." I kiss her again and giggle. "But I have enough of that."_

"_Mooooom! That's so gross!" Anna glances backwards, and as always my eyes follow her. Dea is standing in the back doorway, hands pressed over her eyes. I quickly sneak up behind her and lift her up, dangling her upside-down until she squeals with laughter. "Anna, make Mommy stop!" she splutters, laughing to the point of hiccupping._

_It's an arrangement Anna came up with. She'll call one of us by our first name and the other one Mommy. It alternates each week; avoids confusion._

_At that second, Dea instantly quietens down, and I'm not sure why until I hear the familiar, pretty, tinny song circling around my head. Ice cream van. Dea and I smile identical pleading smiles at Anna until she relents and gives us money. We sprint towards the sound of the song, and finally encounter a beautiful pink-painted ice-cream van, one I haven't seen before. The smell of chocolate chip is delicious._

_We catch up to the van and it slows to a halt. We see the ice-cream man; a happy twenty-something boy, already holding two cones. At our request he fills them to the top with vanilla ice cream; we start hungrily tucking into them as we walk away from the ice-cream van, which is now moving away slowly._

_I've only had a second to register that the flavour isn't quite…right…when I see Dea's eyes glaze over as she falls to the ground. I rush to her, but when I try and put out my hand to touch her cheek it doesn't move. I realise I'm frozen; trying to scream only lets out the slightest whimper as I fall too, eyes closing, as I hear the faint sound of the ice-cream van catching up with us._

* * *

><p><em>What…where am I…?<em>

_I groggily blink my eyes open to see blurry colours and shooting stars. It's pretty, and normally it would lull me to calmness, but there's a sense of fear, of unrest sitting on my chest. I blink hard a few times and see Dea's sleeping form next to me, strapped to a bed. I try to reach out to her, but I discover I'm strapped down too. Confused, I crane my neck around, and see a masked figure sitting near us, watching. Craning a little further, I see the cheery ice-cream man. He's lying down on a seat, crumpled, with what looks like strawberry sauce drizzled over his chest. I don't like looking at him for some reason; I start to feel uneasy so I look back to the masked figure. _

_It's almost smiling. It gets up, and starts to untie Dea, but doesn't untie me. I look at the walls; pink. I must be inside the ice-cream van. Fear creeps up over my chest like ice. It's not a nice feeling. I wince when she touches Dea; "Don't hurt Dea, please, she's just little."_

"_Don't worry," she says, and their voice is familiar, low-pitched and gravelly, but with a sweet tone, and I know she's a girl. I wonder why they're wearing a mask. It's not like anyone else can see her. "I have no battle to fight with the defenceless." She fastens a placard around Dea's neck. It looks like an address; look closer, it's Anna's and my address. She injects a needle into Dea and I wince again; Dea's eyes open, groggy and glazed, and as soon as she stands up, the masked figure opens the door and takes Dea out of the van. A minute later she's back._

"_Don't worry about your daughter. It's a big city out there, broad daylight; a kind stranger will find her and take her home. It's just you now." Her voice is pleasant, but it doesn't make me calm._

"_What are you going to do to me?"_

_Her voice is almost sorrowful. "I almost considered leaving you behind. You were almost innocent. But you weren't completely innocent, and for that you have to go."_

"_Go?"_

"_To the land of butterflies," she says, and her voice has snapped to angry, sarcastic. I don't like it when people are sarcastic with me; a few burning tears build up in my eyes. "Where do you think, princess? You're going to fucking die!"_

_She lifts a knife and plunges it into my stomach, but I don't feel anything; I don't scream, because it doesn't hurt. She lifts her mask off, and I'm surprised to see her face is covered with scratches, everywhere but her eyes. It makes me feel unhappy for her. She smiles, twisted mouth making it seem like a snarl. "The sedatives mean none of it will hurt. For now." She rakes the knife down my arm, lazily, and the blood trails fascinate me. It's almost surreal to think that's my blood. It's so pretty, red._

_Her eyes spark and she instantly begins undoing the straps. At first I think she's going to free me, but then she starts hurriedly speaking. "I was going to just let you bleed to death, but I have a much more theatrical idea. I hope you like archery." She rifles through a huge backpack next to her chair, pulling out a mysterious bag and some matches. She pulls out a syringe, too, and sticks me in the arm. The blurry colours come back, and swirl around until they disappear into black._

* * *

><p><em>Pain. Discomfort. I open my eyes, seeing I'm tied to a post in an uncomfortable stretched position. I see my stomach has stopped bleeding, but I think the sedatives are wearing off, because there's an ebbing pain from there and from my arm, which is still trickling blood. I struggle but the ropes seem unbreakable. I flush when I realise my clothes have been changed. <em>

"_Nothing perverse, my dear; just forensic purposes. Can't have the coppers stopping me, now can I?" The disfigured girl chuckles, twirling a stick in one hand. "Now, I want to play a little game with you. It's my own little variation of Truth or Dare. I think I'll call it…Truth or Death! Catchy name, huh?" She giggles, and it's eerie, like blood bubbling in her throat. _

_I try to block her out and look at everything else. My new dress. It's blue with little blue flowers. It's cute, but it's sad to think this'll be what they find my body wearing. Where I am. An abandoned car lot; I can see the fading painted lines of parking spaces. Fitting. _

"_So, let's get started with the game, shall we? I'll explain the rules. You choose a truth or a dare. If you lie or don't do the dare, then you get the Death." She briskly pulls an arrow out of her bag and lights it on fire with the matches. The glow illuminates her eyes as she smiles creepily and gives a short, barking laugh. "Don't worry, I won't make it last long. The first arrow will hit your leg; the second your shoulder; the third your heart. You'll be dead in an hour tops. The painlessness of your death depends on how good you are at compliance. After all, this game is just so I can know a little about what makes you tick." She blows out the arrow a centimetre before it reaches her fingers and smiles. _

"_Okay, first round is Truth. Have you ever cheated on your wife?"_

_Everything's coming through so fast, and I try to process what just happened. When I realise what the question means, I instantly answer._

"_No." _

_The word doesn't take me a second. I love Anna too much to ever do that. Yet she notches an arrow threateningly. "Are you sure? Because I think you did. I think you cheated on your wife several times, when she was out on business. Didn't you? Didn't you?"  
><em>

_She's already lit the arrow, so I scream, "Yes! I cheated on her!" I sigh with relief, then scream again as the arrow hits my thigh, flames licking at my flesh, bright and orange and hungry for skin. They only last a few seconds before they self-extinguish but they leave a small, deep, gaping hole of agonising pain._

"_You didn't cheat on her. You lied. I was trying to convince you to lie. That shows that you are easily persuaded to do what other people wish you to do. Interesting." She fires a dart into my leg, and I cringe at the unbearable pain I expect to come, but strangely it doesn't, just a lot of stinging. "It's a drug to make you clot, so the fact that the arrow severed your artery won't make too much of a difference," she says matter-of-factly. "I also incorporated a drug similar to an epidural. It'll reduce the pain."_

"_The second round is Dare. I dare you to stay quiet, not making a sound, for the next ten seconds…starting…now." She's sprinted up to me, a sharp implement in one hand. She scrapes it down my cheeks, through one eye, down my chest, and stabs it cruelly into my shoulder, leaving it there and pinning me further to the post. The pain radiates through me in sharp bursts, but I don't speak for fear of more of it. I only clench my fists._

"_Good! That shows that you have extensive willpower and aren't actually as stupid as you look. Hmm." She leaves the implement embedded in my shoulder and steps back._

"_Truth. Do you think I'm beautiful?"_

_I look at her incredulously. She's standing there, head cocked to her side, watching, arms folded. She looks young, and like she might have been pretty once. But she's just stabbed me and burned me! I yell inwardly to myself. I chew my lip and contemplate my answer, which is hard in the fog of wearing-off sedatives, unbearable pain and anguish._

"_Yes."_

_I don't expect to feel flames licking at my shoulder, but that's what I get. They don't even add much to the pain; it's gone as far as I think it should ever go. My bare feet are surrounded my a scarlet pool, and I'm feeling even more dazed._

"_You want to see the best in everyone. But I'm the bitch who's killing you, dammit! You can't see good if it's not there." Her voice is bitter as she picks out a final arrow and fires another dart into my shoulder, but it doesn't seem to staunch the blood or the incessant pain either. I scream, long and hard, then I stop, then I start again. Everything's red, overtaking the calmness of the blue, making an angry indigo._

_She asks me a truth and I'm not sure what it is, or what I do, but I apparently answer correctly. Either that or she takes pity on her dying little victim. I feel sad for her. She's ruined, so she's ruining me. She's bitter, so she's angry at me because my life is sweet like candyfloss. Anna. Dea. Tears sting my wrecked cheeks, mix with my blood._

_I'm faint and I know I'm almost dead. I think of everyone I've ever met in my life. My mindset fixes on one face, one I haven't seen in years. Surprised, I stare at it, then a strange idea, a strange thought, unravels in my head, spiralling faster and faster._

"_Hey, I'm going to die in a second. Can I finish the game? Games should have five rounds. It's a nice number. And I want you to try a round. This game is fun."_

_She's looking at her nails, thinking, then she looks up, surprised as she realises what I'm asking. Finally, she speaks, voice impassive. "Fine. Truth or dare?"_

"_Dare. I dare you to kiss me."_

_Her eyes widen in shock. She stands there for what seems like hours, as more scarlet droplets escape from my burned and bloodied skin. Then, she walks almost angrily up to me, and kisses me full on the lips. She pulls back and takes a stuttered step back._

"_But why?" She wonders out loud. "Maybe you're more puzzling than I think."_

_I don't really listen. I'm concentrating on the taste in my mouth. The taste of my killer. It's familiar, from a long time ago. I chase a lingering memory and finally catch it._

"_Cinnamon-almond gum," I splutter, before coughing up a small amount of blood which spatters the blue-red flower dress. "They liked cinnamon-almond gum, and that's it's taste. They would offer me it. It didn't taste of anything to anyone else, but they loved it." Finally, I work it out. "You're…you're…but you can't be them...are you...?" I don't have to finish the sentence before she nods, almost imperceptibly._

_She grins, impressed. "I wouldn't have expected it of you." _

_I'm not sure what kills me faster; the blood choking me or the arrow she fires quickly into my heart. All I know is, I die wearing red, but with thoughts of blue._

_Sweet, sweet blue…_

* * *

><p>She was a puzzle. An enigma to everyone around her. I wish I could've just studied her for hours, worked out the answer to that niggling little puzzle, but time does not allow for curiosity, and I must move on. They'll find her body in around a day, most likely; enough time to me to take a little vacation.<p>

After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed :)<strong>

**Kara xxx**


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